New Pictures Tuesday, Nov 5 2013
A new template and several new pictures.
A pensive king
This lounge scene doesn’t look anything like our home, of course, but I needed a fireplace pic to match the two figures, and this is a lovely room.
The cats are Magnus, in front of the fire, and Thomas, on the chair. In the original photo I took this from, they were both on the couch.
Louis knitting at Home
Louis and Katie
Louis and Rochelle
And some fun making gifs with LunaPics:
Brunswick Street, October Monday, Oct 14 2013
a post by Louis
My lady and I have done much, these two days at Home and here, and I would tell you of it.
First, we went to Brunswick Street, a place of shops my lady likes to visit, but has not done so for some small time. It is because her leg pains her, and she cannot walk at length, and is wary of doing so. But this day was fine, and there was a thing for which she wanted to seek: a brooch to hold her fine new coat. It struck her that she might find such in this street, for there are art things there, and jewellery, and the shop of which she is most fond, called Scally and Trombone, is one which sells such.
She wore her fine coat, which I admire, and we know my youngest son would wear happily, but he may not, for I am not having him copy it; it is my lady’s, not his. He may envy, if he will! He has not seen it yet, we have not been in his company since she completed its knitting. It was a warm day when we walked out, and one would think the garment too warm, but my lady was less hot from it, than from her other garments, and said the sleeves, on her bare arms, were comfortable, for they allowed air in, being loose-knit, while preventing sunburn on her fair skin.
The shop in Brunswick Street had many brooches, some handsome, some strange, many whimsical. My lady chose a green cat, arranged as if lying down and looking at mere humans. It is sculpted so its gaze seems to follow one, which is most like cats when they deign to notice.
She also found hose, garments of many colours, patterned in flowers, and stripes, and other shapes, which seemed most odd, and I was surprised she would choose such. I knew she had wanted colours, to offset her dark tunic, but I did not think such would appeal to her. But I will tell you, they looked most fine upon her, for she wore them at our Home that night, and it joyed me to see so much colour.
We had a peaceful day at our Home, drinking tea upon the terrace, and enjoying the change to the cool of autumn. It is my lady’s favourite time, for autumn does not have the rich colour she craves, where she lives on Earth, and the rising heat means such autumn as there is, has become warmer, and brief, as if summer were to infect it. I say infect, because she has no love of the hot season, not because it disturbs me; all seasons have their mellowness and pleasures in Spirit, and the cold does not kill, nor the heat scorch.
My lady’s coat has been most popular with the furred ones. They are all sure they can leave their mark upon it, although its colours resist their fur, and they are most happy to use it as a blanket. I know it is fine in this way, for they are not the first to do so, and it makes a welcome shelter, when one is outside, and one’s skin open to the air. It is a tradition we most enjoy, to use our new knitwear so, and we are like cats, we make our own traditions, and they are ancient when we do, and not to be questioned by mere mortal humans, or immortal humans, if one is a cat.
There are other things we have done. The time of our plants’ flowering is past, and we are putting away pots, and settling the beds for their sleep, when winter comes. The hedges need trimming, but that is always so. They are most lively, these plants of Spirit, they grow and grow. I smile, it keeps us busy. I will drag my sons to help, one day, for we have aided them much in laying out their new designs! It is unpaid labour, being a king and father of kings, even though we are not kings, nor have been so long, and regret it not. I would sooner be a gardener, as I am, than ever a king. It is one thing that has lasted, the making of things, the ordering of things; it is with creation, a good that lasts, that feeds the soul, better than the ordering of men, or armies, or any thing, even those I loved in my restless earthtime.
I will tell another thing my lady bought: a coat-hanger, made in the form of a cat’s face, painted large, above shoulders. She hangs her coat upon it, in her room where she can see it, and startles when she enters, for it is a large face, and seems to look, and were it not gold-eyed, would seem to be Miss Katie. I can see that child, staring at us, if we disturbed her use of a garment she had claimed, or any thing.
We ate of a dish called Eggs Benedict. My lady enjoyed it. I did not, so much. It was strange, I did not care for the sauce, and it was of strange texture. I did not say so much, to my lady, when she asked, but she laughed and said I did not wish to say I did not care for it, which was true, I admit it. Why would I hide such? I do not know, it is a silly thing to do.
That is all I have to tell, of our days here and there. I wish you well and bid you good day.
Notes by Louise:
The brooch is by Erstwilder Jewellery of Melbourne. They have a website, but there are more pieces to be found by Googling them.
The coathanger is by Stupell Industries. Their website seems to be in pdf hell, and is mainly for wholesalers anyway. Googling “Stupell coat hanger” will get a good selection of their designs – cats, dogs and foxes.
The tights are by Dub & Drino. They are also available in lots of places online.
Does writing a knitting pattern count? Monday, Oct 14 2013
The last couple of months have been taken up with a mixture of knitting projects and health concerns, which pretty much wiped out any urge to write – and, with the change of focus, less time actually spent remembering time at Home. That is, I think – hope – changing; Louis wants to write something tonight, which he hasn’t for a little while.
In the meantime, here are the two major projects I’ve done, and the pattern for the second.
The dress and coat derive from the same pattern. I haven’t written up the dress’s, but here is the pattern for the Mick Aston Memorial Coat.
Needles: 6mm/ US 10
Yarns: Noro Silk Garden #309 – 15 skeins
Adorn Silky Merino DK, #105 (5 skeins) and #116 (2 skeins)
Yarn for sewing seams (any suitable yarn will do)
BO – bind off (cast off)
cbb – knit cable stitch back
cbf – knit cable stitch forward
CO – cast on
Cont – continue
k – knit
k2tog – knit two stitches together (decrease)
Mark – use ribbon, safety pin, stitch marker etc. to mark row
p – purl
p2tog – purl two stitches together (decrease)
r – row
RS – right side
rv st st – reverse stockinette stitch
sl1k – slip one stitch knitwise (used at selvedges)
WS – wrong side
a. I used cable cast-on and a basic sl1k at the start, k1 at the end of every row style of selvedge. It is a bit gappy in the decreasing edges, but because this coat has external seams and can be reinforced with a second seam inside, it wasn’t really an issue. Use whatever type of selvedge you think best.
b. I have not included specifics for the sections where I changed to cream Adorn and did various cable or ribbed patterns. The idea is to improvise and do what you think looks best. I used the cream to break up the colour bands (which are themselves asymmetrical) and put in a bit of patterning. You might want to do it quite differently.
c. The Adorn is finer than the Noro; it’s important to knit it more loosely, or there will be buckling where they meet (she said, having found this out the hard way). Other than that, tension and gauge aren’t that important. The garment is very loose and draped. I stand 5′ 4” and am an Australian size 16 – 18 (similar to US 12 – 14). Adorn is a soft yarn, but if you are sensitive to wool products on your skin, you may want to line the back collar. I used a strip of microfibre from a pair of tights; it’s soft and doesn’t show inside the neck.
d. Noro feels harsh when knitting it up, not least because of all the splinters in it (yay the rustic look, not). But it’s surprisingly soft to wear, and, with the knit surface inside, quite smooth. I’ve worn it next to the skin on a 25C day and been quite comfortable; it kept the sun off, but the knit was loose enough to let the breeze through.
CO 228 stitches in Adorn Silky Merino 105 (Choc Chip).
r1 – r3: sl1kw
r4: k1, k2tog, k2tog, then k row to last 5 stitches; k2tog, k2tog, k1
Repeat r1 – r4 to r13 (ordinary k row)
End of r13: change to Noro Silk Garden
r16: k1, p2tog, p2tog, p to last 5 stitches, p2tog, p2tog, k1
Continue as in rows 14 -17 until fabric is 124 stitches wide (should be row 104, there or thereabouts). Mark row.
Cont rv st st to r138
End r138: change to Adorn #105
r139: sl1k, k4, p2, k5, p2, k96, p2, k5, p2, k5
r140: sl1k, p4, cbf, p5, cbf, p96, cbb, p5, cbb, p5
Continue as rows 139 and 140 to r198
CO 140 stitches in Adorn #105
r1 – r3: sl1k, k to end
r4: sl1k, k to last 5 stitches, k2tog, k2tog, k1
Repeat r1 – r4 to r13
r14: sl1k, k12. Tie Noro yarn to Adorn, p to end of row, k last stitch.
r15: sl1k, k to last 13 stitches, wind the two yarns around each other, k final 13 in Adorn. This forms the front band.
Remember to knit the Adorn more loosely than the Noro!
r16: sl1k, k12 in Adorn, twist yarns, p to last five sitches in Noro, p2tog, p2tog, k1.
Continue this pattern (ie. reducing two stitches at the end of every second purl row) to r104; mark end of row.
r105 – r139 – continue rv st st
r140: resume reducing two stitches at end of row (should be 86 stitches wide on this row when done)
r141- 148: reduce two stitches at end of every purl row
r149 on: reduce three stitches at end of every row until Noro meets Adorn band. Tie off the Noro and leave tail for binding in.
Put stitch holder in the front band. Do Not Cut the yarn! It’s needed to finish the collar.
NB this will produce a gathered/pleated effect on the edge. It wasn’t intentional but it works!
Identical to the right front, but all reducing happens at the beginning of the row instead of the end.
CO 140 stitches in Adorn #105
r1 – r3: sl1k, k to end
r4: sl1k, k2tog, k2tog, k to end
Repeat r1 – r4 to r13
r14: sl1k, p to last 13 stitches. Tie Noro to Adorn, k last 13.
r15: sl1k, k13 in Adorn, wind the two yarns around each other, k to end in Noro.
r16: sl1k, p2tog, p2tog, p to last 13 stitches, twist yarns, k13 in Adorn.
Continue this pattern (ie. reducing two stitches at the beginning of every second purl row) to r104; mark end of row.
r105 – r139 – continue rv st st
r140: resume reducing two stitches at beginning of row (should be 86 stitches wide on this row when done)
r141- 148: reduce two stitches at beginning of every purl row
r149 on: reduce three stitches at beginning of every row until Noro meets Adorn band. Tie off the Noro and leave tail for binding in.
Put stitch holder in the front band. Do Not Cut the yarn! It’s needed to finish the collar.
The sleeves are rectangles and can essentially be whatever length and width you fancy. I made them 140 stitches wide, with the 13-row band of Adorn for the cuffs. The length is dictated by how long your arms are and how loose your knitting is. The shoulder line on this jacket comes about halfway down my upper arm, so the sleeves only needed to be 33cm long.
Tip: knit both sleeves at once if you have long needles. It means you can judge the length by eye or measurement and don’t have to count rows.
Sew the front top edge to the top of the back. This forms an over-the-shoulder front seam and a dropped shoulder line. I used saddle stitch (blanket stitch) in bright red for decoration, and oversewed in inconspicuous yarn at the back, for strength.
Unlike most sewers I prefer to have the side seams done before I attach sleeves, but I used pins and tacking to get everything aligned first. Since the sleeve seams are also decorative, I put the halfway-mark of the sleeve edge at the top of the shoulder, so the sleeve seam meets the side seam.
FINISHING THE COLLAR
Continue knitting the front bands until they are long enough to join in the centre back. Your mileage may vary with how loose you want this, or whether you intend to sew the collar to the neckline. I did so to reduce its stretchiness, again using a decorative seam.
July jumper Wednesday, Jul 3 2013
Sunday was a peaceful day on this side of the veil. This wretched knee still needs to be rested as much as possible, which means I haven’t been out on the weekend for ages. However, it does give the chance to get knitting or pictures done, and this time it was pictures, the ones in the previous entry and here.
I’d had the original of this one stored for some time in my files, and finally got around to turning into a portrait. The original was grey – a good shade, but not one Louis would be likely to fancy. He’s long since given away the only grey jumper he had. I wasn’t at all sure he’d have any interest in this pattern, since he hadn’t expressed any enthusiasm when I found it. He did express a preference for a blue-green shade, in much the same family as his mock-turtle knit, and the shade proved surprisingly easy to create on PhotoStudio: just one change of hue and saturation was enough, for a rarity.
What I couldn’t get was a straightforward answer about whether he would like to have this garment to wear! As usual when I can’t hear him (most of the time) I tried the pendulum. The confusion of yes, no and maybe/non-committal/does not apply answers left me no wiser about whether he liked it enough to wear, didn’t fancy it after all or simply hadn’t had time to consider. I went to bed in that state, presuming he’d let me know once we were Home and could talk properly.
This morning, Louis informed me he was wearing the jumper, so I was determined to remember as much as I could in Fawkner. I wasted no time in getting a coffee, drinking it on the way there, and finding a good place to dump my bag and relax into the memories.
The first image to come through was of us at breakfast. I think we’d finished eating; we were talking about the jumper and holding hands.
“You were being such a tease last night. I had no idea what you wanted.”
“It is your punishment for using the machine,” he answered, grinning.
“So, do you want that jumper? Shall we make it?”
“I do,” he said, not grinning this time, just smiling. At that point I slid over to sit on his lap and give him a kiss.
“I love you,” I said, rather unnecessarily. “You’re so real. Your happiness, your self …” I was rubbing his upper chest while I said this; it was a very tactile memory, this morning.
“That’s a strange reason to love someone,” Louis observed.
“You know what I mean,” I said, and we kissed again. Just then the coffee pot bubbled, and Louis leaned over to turn it off. I got up and poured our drinks, returning to my seat to have mine. I got a dark look when I poured milk into my mug, and threatened to add it to his; he drank with his hand shielding the top, just in case.
While I drank, I felt the making of the jumper coming on me. It was like a partly unguided thought; I knew what it would look like and was thinking out how the surface was so textured, but the inside would be smooth – not fluffy-soft, but pleasant on the skin. Louis watched while I did this; he obviously had an idea of what was happening.
“There’s something upstairs for you,” I said when it was done. “On the bed.”
The speed with which he gulped down his coffee and took off upstairs was a bit of a giveaway.
“All that teasing,” I said to Katie (who was of course sitting on the table – where else would she be at breakfast?). “Daddy’s being a bit of a fraud, he did want that jumper.” She looked at me, squeezed her eyes almost shut and produced one of her voiceless words, just the sound of her leathery little cat lips separating, but with the clear thought Daddy in it; she was laughing at him as much as I was.
I cleared the table; telling food scraps “Return to your energetic state” is a superior way of washing up, I think. By the time I’d done that, Louis had reappeared in the doorway. He posed and turned in his new knitwear, until I suggested we go to the main room. Spacious though our kitchen is, it’s not the ideal venue for showing off new clothes.
I flopped on the old couch near the fireplace, and Louis showed off some more, including a silly pose with one hand on his hip, one on the back of his head, and a bent leg – parodying model poses. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him in his new jumper, and how much he liked the feel as much as the look of it.
“It’s a bit warm to wear it now, but you might want to wear it tonight,” I said. We do after all have a Tradition where new clothing is concerned. “How about a first cuddle in it now, though?”
Louis wasn’t arguing with that, and droppped onto the couch. But our cuddle didn’t stay a cuddle for long, and the official breaking in of the new jumper took place rather sooner than we’d planned.
Not that anyone was complaining, mind.
At this point in my memories, I opened my eyes and asked Louis if what I was seeing was accurate. Some of it felt like I was imagining rather than recalling it; there was a feeling of directing, not following. He assured me it was real, but that I’d missed the best part. When he said that, I had an impression of Henri and Kathy being involved.
“Did we go to your father’s place to show off the new jumper?” I asked. “What, is there a knitwear rivalry going on between you two?”
Luckily I had time to try for more memories. Even more luckily, they came.
I tuned back in to our arrival at Kathy and Henri’s house. It was a little like the last time I remember us doing this, but instead of Kathy being at the door to greet us, I called out to her: “Kathy! Kathy! You there? Louis’s got new knitwear to show off!”
My dear stepmother-in-law came out, and there was an Admiring the Knitwear moment, including me assuring her that no, I had not knitted such a time-consuming and complicated garment on the earthly side. At some point Louis called Kathy Mother, and she rolled her eyes and asked, “Does he do that to you?” – meaning, does he use some wildly unsuitable title – to which I answered, “No, but the boys do!” Teasing stepsons are all the go in the Bourbon family, it seems.
We walked through the house, Louis in the middle with his arms around us, before he went ahead, calling out for his father.
“He was being such a tease about this on the other side,” I said. “He’s figured out how to avoid giving straight answers through the pendulum.”
“Are you still using that?”
“Yeah, more than I’d like, but I can’t hear him often.”
“I’m surprised. I’d have thought you would by now. Never mind, it’ll come.”
By this time we were in the cobbled back yard. Henri had been in the kennels, and when we arrived he was trying to give Louis a hug, while Louis danced around, keeping out of reach, because he didn’t want to get his new jumper all doggy.
“Leave it, Henri!” I called, laughing. “It hasn’t had its first layer of cat hair yet!”
“Are you saying my dogs are inferior, daughter?”
“No, but we have to live with the snooty little beggars if they don’t get to be first!”
I don’t remember much else about our visit. Louis took off his jumper and folded it carefully, then hugged his father; Kathy asked if it was too early for us to have lunch, and we went inside.
Photo diary, part eleventy Sunday, Jun 30 2013
Louis and I celebrated my fiftieth birthday on Friday night (day, across the veil) by … not getting out of bed.
On that note, I shall leave you with the latest pictures I have made. The third one is slightly NSFW, at least if a glimpse of a male buttock counts as such.
The kitties here aren’t ours, though the grey tabbies in the foreground could sort of be chunkier versions of Katie and Abbey, if one squinted hard enough. Not that it matters, since it’s a lovely picture anyway.
I saw the picture of this jumper a while ago and couldn’t resist making it into a portrait. The jumper’s grey in the original, but Louis wanted it green. Whether he or I will end up creating an actual garment over There from this I don’t know, but I certainly won’t be knitting it on the earthly side!
Miss Rochelle, queen of the workshop, getting a cuddle. The background isn’t accurate, in that there are no doors leading outside (the room is on the front wing of the house, opposite the dining room wing, and leads only back inside via the studio), but it does give a good idea of its size and its messiness!
Nothing to say here, really. Let the picture do the talking.
Some pictures almost make themselves Tuesday, Jun 18 2013
Once again, I sit down to write and find myself wholly reluctant to do so, despite the urge to describe the sweet memory of lying next to a sleeping (and yes, snoring) man.
So once again I’ll cheat and post some recent pictures instead. I didn’t make many alterations to these – the blurry effects were in the originals, so it was just a matter of matching the effects in the facial templates.
None of these represent actual moments here or across the veil. I was searching for pictures of suitable knitwear (cobblestone or Aran jumpers). These were charming enough to use as finished portraits, not just as templates for the clothing.
Louis’s cap in the second picture is the second cable-knit cap I knitted lately. It was meant to be a beret, but, being new to knitting cable, I underestimated how elastic it makes the yarn, and it’s much more snug than I wanted. (Beanies don’t suit me at all.)
They do, however, suit someone else, and he helped himself to this and the first cable cap I knitted, thank you very much – to the point that when I tried that one on last night, here on the earthly side, he asked imperiously, “What are you doing wearing my cap?”
As Mum said, sometimes he does take this king business seriously.
May Conversation Wednesday, May 22 2013
This post comes courtesy of Louis, who dictated this bit of our conversation for me. I gather we didn’t do a whole lot yesternight except sit on the terrace drinking tea and talking. Given we’ve been busy painting, going for long walks and making love a LOT over the past week or so, it was probably time to chill out over a cuppa or five! Obviously this is only a fragment of what we talked about. He’s had to translate at least part of it from the language of Spirit into earthly speech, and I had to write it at lunchtime, so this is the most we’re likely to put in writing.
I am well aware that some of the conversation will be oblique. If you want to know what we’re referring to at any point, please ask! I’m more than happy to answer; I just don’t feel like putting footnotes all over this entry.
“What I find strange still, is that you loved me as I was. I was not loveable and I knew that, it was clear enough through my life that few found me loveable. Yet you did, and that was strange to me even knowing we matched on the tree,” Louis said.
“It was a strange enough feeling here,” I answered. “You knew I knew it wouldn’t be easy, even if it were possible, for us, as you were and as I am. I couldn’t see it ending well and I couldn’t grasp how much you would have changed over all this time, even if you lived and loved me. Or cared. We’ve said all that often enough!” I laughed, because we have had this conversation innumerable times. It just doesn’t seem to get old when we’re still caught up in the wonder of it all.
“We have,” he said, sipping his tea. “It was hard to wait and know I could only show who I was. Am I the same man? I know I am yet I know how you wonder, how … light I am, now. The shadows, they are so fine, they are hardly there at all.”
“I don’t know the last time I saw anything like a shadow in you. The Shrine, maybe? That moment of disapproval?”
“It could be,” he said, smiling. “Or a gardener’s just wrath with wicked hounds.”
“I wouldn’t all that a shadow! I would call it hysterical, though.”
“You have no mercy, madame, I know it well.”
We grinned at each other and paused, drinking our tea. I sighed, then, looking at him.
“Did you read those things we were writing about fun and joy and love?”
“I did. Your heart was in it. I laughed when I read the magnificent comments about falling from beds. It is well ours is not by the wall, I see that might happen.”
“Thank the gods for space, eh?”
We laughed again, and he looked at me, much as I’d just looked at him.
“It warms my heart more than the sun, sitting so. It is life, all life, sitting here. How did we come to be so lucky? I do not know. I do not think I care.”
“You little atheist, you,” I said, and we laughed again.
“This tea is most fine, what is it?” Louis asked.
“No idea. I said ‘tea that tastes good’ and that’s what it is. Prolly doesn’t even taste the same to you as to me.”
“It would not, you adulterate it with milk.”
“I didn’t, so there!”
Louis leaned forward, peering at my cup. “My soul, you have drunk tea as it should be? I am converted, it is a miracle.”
“Oh shut up, it’s not like it’s the first time,” I said, prompting a snigger.
There was another pause, where we stopped joking and even drinking our tea. We were drinking each other in.
“… I love you. You’re so … you’re everything. You’re it, mister.”
“My lady. My love.”
14 May, 1643 Wednesday, May 15 2013
Yesterday was the 370th anniversary of Louis’s going Home. We didn’t mark the day on either side of the veil. On this side, I was home sick, so the day was spent sitting in front of the heater: he was reading and I was knitting, which isn’t a bad way to spend a day regardless of one’s health.
I’m posting a short section from the book we started writing a few years ago (and stopped writing not that long afterward). It’s Louis’s own description of going Home.
Crossing into Spirit is not what one expects. The fear is earthly. It is fear of the unknown. But Spirit is what we make it. We create our own worlds. I do not mean that Spirit is unreal, or flexible, or that it exists only in persons’ minds. It is real and encompasses all things. But the state persons are in, the life they create in their earthly time, is what forms their lives in Spirit. If one lives in evil and wishes no change, one traps oneself in that state. It draws darkness to oneself. It is not a matter of creed but of the stains one makes on the soul. It is what one has done to others, and whether one wishes to change. Does one reach for Light, even not knowing how, or why? If one does, one may work toward it. Light does not abandon or reject, it is a process, one works toward it. It is like the levels of heaven described in philosophies from the East. The difference is that one is not sent back to the earthly plane. Life is lived but once, the soul is born, it enters a body, lives that life, and leaves it. One does not return to the womb. The progression continues, it does not waste itself in endless cycles, unlearning lessons. It is taken into Spirit and the life continues so.
My crossing was not an easy one. I do not mean the transition of soul. I mean my earthly body’s death. It was a long illness, my last. It was painful and slow, I was bedridden for months, and had to see what I felt to be the false sorrow of those around me. Those I loved best were not there, they had gone ahead, or were in such state that they could not come.
I remember the moment of crossing well. I felt fear, as my body died. I feared the God I had been taught ruled all. He was a God as much of judgement as of love, and I feared that judgement. I wished to see him, I wished it with all my heart, but I feared I was not truly acceptable.
The moment of crossing is not easy to describe. Persons who have come close to it may know something of it. I did not see a tunnel, or light reaching to me. I simply woke. That is the best way I can describe it. I was standing in my true home. My father was there to greet me. That was the moment I remember best. It was thirty-three years since I had seen him. I have not the words to say what it was like, to see him again.
The fear I felt as my earthly life ended was gone. I knew I was in my true home, the home of all. There is no harsh God to judge souls according to creed. God is indescribable, I cannot speak of this. God is no person, no man or woman or being, but is the power of love and life. God is a consciousness, but not a person. I cannot say more than that, I do not know how. But there is no judgement, no rejection. Persons make their own hells, there is no such place in Spirit. We imprison ourselves only, and have always the keys if we wish to use them. When the door is opened, all doors open. It is but a matter of finding them. The search can take forever, the lifetimes of Spirit, but it is the most joyous search in the worlds. I am nearing the end of my search now. I have what I seek in sight. It will mean a new journey when it is won, a journey yet more joyous than the last, because it will be a journey made by two.
I had much to do when I crossed. I had burdens on my self, my soul. Some I made, some happened in my life, but they were things to be answered for. A king must do so, it is inevitable. It is not a matter of a harsh God judging but of one repaying debts to Life. Evil done may not be undone, or repaid to those who suffered. But good may be done to other lives, and understanding gained, and burdens lifted. It erases pain to do so. That is what persons who do not wish to leave their misdeeds behind do not understand. They have the opportunity if they wish it; they will always be welcomed to do so. It may take long, it may take very long, many earthly lifetimes, but it is never closed. It is like the concept of Purgatory, but it is not punishment, save self-inflicted.
I went through these things. I had not the sense of separation from the Light. I did not know how it would be, but I hoped for it, I yearned for it, and it welcomed me. I have said my father greeted me. He too had things to do in his life, he had repairs to make, but he was living in the Light and joyously greeted me. We had work to do together and have done so, long now. It gladdens my heart still to know my father at last. I was but eight when he was slain in the earthly life. It was the blackest of days, it shadowed me always. To see him in youth and strength (as I never knew him) was the first taste of heaven one could ask. I smile even now, remembering. It was a merry meeting, be assured.
Easter Saturday Sunday, May 5 2013
April 12, 2009
Yesterday my lady and I went out. We had planned to spend this Easter Saturday out together. I crossed to her world when she woke. She had not crossed to our home during the night. It was one night for her, but more than that for me, and I was glad to see her again. I made my breakfast there and Miss Katie came with me for her share. It pleased Louise to see her.
We went into the city on the comfortable country train. My lady was somewhat distracted from my presence. It is the result of the attunement she received a week ago. Such things are normal. I do not like it, but I know it will not last long. I hope our connection will be strengthened when the adjustment is made. It was last time.
One thing that pleased me is that my lady is aware of her cat’s presence. Miss Katie senses this and takes advantage of it. She came with us on the train, and curled up on my lady’s lap. I could feel how strongly Louise sensed her. She thought it was partly memory but it was not.
We travelled into the city proper, and crossed the river to walk down to the south part of Melbourne. My lady had thought to visit the shops there, and perhaps look at the market. We also hoped to find a cake-shop we thought we had seen there, like the one in Chapel Street. It is a pleasant place to sit and eat and read.
Most of the shops were closed for the holiday, but Louise was happy to look in the windows. She was not really looking for things to buy, for which I was glad. We saw one garment which we both liked. It was green, and fitted, and had a little lace at the neck and sleeves. It would have looked well on my lady. But it was far too expensive to consider.
We did not see the cake-shop we hoped to find. It did not matter; there were other places to eat, and as my lady said, it may well have been closed anyway. We went instead to a café at the market where we had eaten before. It is not as good as the cake-shop, but it is pleasant enough. I was pleased that my lady seemed in no hurry to move on. She is often anxious about time. But we spent an hour and a half there. The food was not to boast about, but it did not matter. My lady read a newspaper, I read my book, and Miss Katie sat on the table and helped herself to food. She had decided to stay with us for the whole day. I do not know why. Who knows why a cat does things? But it pleased Louise. She was excited to have her little cat with her and was more aware of me, too. She was trying hard and it was more like our normal days out. My lady could not see me well, and asked often if I had my jumper on or off, or whether I had just done something. It was fair that she should ask, because the weather was changeable. I choose to feel the weather and warmth as she does.
When we finished our lunch we strolled about the market for a little while. Then we crossed the old iron bridge over the rail-line, walking toward the sea. My lady let me choose which way we would go. She sensed that I had no wish to see more shops and she said she had had her share of them. I wanted us to walk together through the quiet streets.
I was happy, walking together. It does not matter if we do not talk much. My lady does not know how much it is just to walk. She feels she must try and she does not need to. We are together.
Louise sensed that I did not want to end our day too soon. It was after two o’clock and that gave us less than two hours to return to the city and catch the train. She rang her mother and said we would catch the later train. We had reached the sea and the cloud had gone. I sat on the sea-wall and Miss Katie played on the sand while my lady made her phone-call. Afterward she said, smiling, that her mother asked her to buy some chocolates for her, so we walked back to some shops for them. They were near a road that ran parallel to the sea, but further back from it, with trees lining it. That was where I wanted to walk. There was not much shade but the trees have kindly spirits.
My lady had realised by now that I wanted to go to Albert Park. She said she did not know if it would be open, because of the work removing the structures for the Grand Prix. But we walked there, and it was open.
There was a moment that made us laugh before we got there. My lady was thinking hard on how happy this day was, and said suddenly, “My husband, I love you, Louis, I love you.” I could not help myself then, and neither could she, and we embraced. I felt her push herself a little way from her earth-body, and we held each other tightly. But when we separated there was a sense of indignation so strong that my lady felt it too. Miss Katie was not pleased that we had embraced. She was riding my lady’s shoulder, as she had been most of the day. We had not consulted her convenience first.
When we came to Albert Park we sat upon a bench overlooking the lake. It was peaceful. There were people jogging and cycling, and some traffic on the road behind, but it was a restful atmosphere. Louise sent some Reiki to her sore shoulder, and I helped. She was amused that Miss Katie curled on her lap to enjoy the sensation.
After a little while we strolled by the lake. Miss Katie was most taken by the black swans, and my lady told her it was as well she could not chase them, as they would probably peck her to death if she tried. Louise asked if I would like an apple, to throw its core into the lake. It has become a joke with us. I said yes, but she said she would not join me, as she was not hungry. I said I would like to eat together, and she smiled and obliged. The apples are not large, they are small and sweet, so it is no imposition to make oneself eat one.
We walked down to a great fig tree, and sat under its shade for a moment, long enough to kiss. Then it was time to walk back to the tram and catch our train. My lady’s anxiety about time caught her again, and we ran for the earlier tram, because she could not remember exactly what time the train would leave the station, nor how long it would take for the tram to get there. It was not necessary, of course. We arrived at the station far earlier than we needed, but it did not matter. What we had not thought of was that a great crowd would be there. Spectators from a football match filled the station. Miss Katie went home as soon as she saw them. I think my lady would have gladly done so too. So would I. But we waited the time for the train, and it was not crowded. My lady and I had our seats to ourselves for the whole journey.
The evening was like most Saturday evenings. We watched a television program together, “New Tricks”. Miss Katie did not return. My lady had asked during the day about her older cat, Mrs Mamie, who crossed over in 2004. She had realised that she never thought of whether Mrs Mamie came to visit her. Her attention was taken up by Miss Katie, who crossed so recently. My lady felt bad about this, fearing Mrs Mamie would be upset at being ignored, although she has much attention when my lady crosses at night. She asked if Mrs Mamie would visit that night. I said yes, and Louise was happy to know her elder cat spent the time purring on her lap.
After the television, my lady went to work on her computer. I read, with Mrs Mamie on my lap. My lady crossed over to our true home during the night, and of that I will say no more.